


say you fancy me— not fancy stuff

by reas_of_sunshine



Series: the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury // kiss prompts [2]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Gentleness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reas_of_sunshine/pseuds/reas_of_sunshine
Summary: “I thought ‘flattery won’t get you anywhere’ was one of your little mottos,”





	say you fancy me— not fancy stuff

**Author's Note:**

> what's up my name's reagan i'm 17 and these ducks have ruined my life and these old dorks in particular have ruined me
> 
> anyway, some pointless (emphasis on the pointless) fluff for my series: "you look beautiful" kiss + my personal HC

The manner of turning silver to gold sounds supernatural— and perhaps, in the manner of the metals themselves, yes.

But Goldie stood in front of the ornate mirror, sleep still in her eyes, doing just that with her curls. She yawned, too weary to really pay attention to anything other than the task at hand. 

She heard the bathroom door creak, but paid no mind. Along with the soft footsteps, the gentle thump of the cane on the tiles, and she certainly felt an arm drape around her shoulders. Then she grinned upon looking in the mirror and seeing someone’s reflection aside her own.

“Morning, Scroogey,” Goldie practically trilled.

He whispered something in Scottish, a term of endearment, she assumed, before a brief mumble of  _ “good morning” _ escaped him as well.

She continued with her work, for perfection required both patience and persistence.

“Oi,” His voice was soft, and she wanted to tease him for it.

But some part of Goldie damn near melted when he turned her face gently, thumb tracing her jawline, his gaze sincere yet sweet.

“Ye look beautiful,” Scrooge assured. “Be it gold or silver, ye look marvelous.”

It’s practically a trademark for her— her brand. ‘Glittering’ Goldie, Star of the North, Queen of the Klondike, the nicknames went on and on. But one thing resonated with each term; she was beautiful, gorgeous, an absolute _ stunner _ . Her beauty is what she’s best known for (what paid her bills in the most dire of circumstances, if she was completely honest).

And so, she kept that image.

“You’re biased,” she joked, turning away from him and going back to carefully tending her curls.

“I’m an honest man, Ms. O’Gilt,” Scrooge continued. “I only speak tha truth,”

He gently took her wrist, lowering her hand and the hair-dye bottle, and she side-eyed him.

“I thought ‘flattery won’t get you anywhere’ was your motto,” was her comeback.

Scrooge leaned in, kissing her temple. “Is it really flattery if’n it’s the truth?” He kept urging it.

He was calling her beautiful. Despite the wrinkles, the grey hairs, her signature looks truly nothing but shadows now, he was still assuring her she was beautiful.

One could say he was even insisting upon the fact.

Goldie felt herself faltering. She — Goldie O’Gilt, bold and fearless and independent — was embarrassed and flustered over this stubborn, tightwad sourdough. The not-quite forgotten nickname slipped past her lips subconsciously, and she leaned against his touch.

She missed this.

She can flash back to cold nights at White Agony Creek, fights in the cabin and the warmth of their love amidst the cold snow, just by looking at him.

It’s been years but she’s… back. Somehow. For this serendipitous visit.

“Sourdough,” she repeated, glancing up to look at him— curls of artificial gold, natural silver and everything in between falling in her face, and he pushed them away the second they fell. She wanted to melt all over again.

He can’t just do that.

He can’t just take her heart, after all these years…

Oh, who are either of them kidding?

“I… I’d actually prefer it if ye stayed another day or two,” Scrooge muttered. “That hotel ya got, Dawson, it can survive a couple of days without ye, can’t it?”

A sigh escaped Goldie. “You have such a way with women, Scroogey,” she grumbled. “Flirt with them and persuade them to abandon their businesses.”

He can’t help but grin. “Not women,” he replied. “Just ye.”

The look in her emerald eyes, the sly smirk suddenly breaking out on her face, said it all.

“Damn ye,” he grumbled.

“You can do better than that,” she taunted.

He arched an eyebrow, just the one, and scoffed. Next thing Goldie knew, his hand went from gently caressing her jaw to grabbing her hip— he dropped his cane, letting it fall, and he had a downright devilish grin when he pulled her in.

She was just about to tease him, to shoot out another sly comment that would drive him wild.

Until she found herself swept off her feet, quite literally.

Her travel bottle of the golden hair dye, gold-and-faux-fur purse, and everything else on the sink clattered to the floor as it was violently pushed off. Goldie found herself shiver for only a moment when she sat on the polished granite but she was far too occupied continuing to get reacquainted with her long lost love and the fire in his kiss.

“By the way,” she gasped, amidst the kiss, in between breaths.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, a little annoyed she was keeping him from all she had to offer.

Goldie held Scrooge’s face in her hands, fingers threading through his whiskers, and a playful smile replacing her smirk. “You’re still rather scruffy,” she mused. “But I suppose I can’t deny you aged well.”

He laughed, letting it dissolve when she pulled him back in to reunite in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> i know DT17 has Goldie keep her blonde but i'm quite fond of how she looked later in life back in the 80s so i blended ideas??? ///shrugs
> 
> this fic was made possible by commenters like you!  
> ~rea


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